Consider Yourself Forgiven
by Aoitori
Summary: Tag to 4x07  We never did get to see Arthur make a proper apology to Merlin at the end of that delightful episode, so here is my fluffy, banter-filled, bromance-tastic, version of how it -must- have happened. Please R&R!


Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, Arthur, Camelot- any of it. Trust me, that's a good thing.

Note: Honestly, this was meant to be a drabble. A hundred words, maybe less. There were just a few lines that I was _really_ expecting to hear in that last episode (Season 4: Episode 7, in case you're reading this years later): a brief conversation that I just had to create myself when I found it had been left out. And 1500 words later I've got a full, fluffy little episode-tag of a ficlet, in which two impossible things happen and I toe the line between slash and cannon with every bit as much infuriating audacity as the actual authors do. I just couldn't help myself. I love writing these two _so much_. Please read, review, and laugh your head off. Yoroshiku, ne!

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><p><span>Consider Yourself Forgiven<span>

Arthur was finally having a decently good day.

With Gaius on the mend, Agravaine no longer interrogating members of the court, and Merlin done absconding with members of the knighthood for not-so-futile rescue missions, things were finally getting back to normal, and that was no small relief to Camelot's young king.

He had been troubled, but somehow heartened, by the old physician's words about the unrecognized allies he had throughout the kingdom. This was not the first he'd heard of some supposed "future" he was to build, or the destiny he was to fulfill, and he was far from sure any of it was to be believed, but one thing he did know- the way things were going, he would need all the help he could get to accomplish any great change in the kingdom.

To be perfectly honest, he needed all the help he could get just to get through a day's duties as king.

"Honestly, sire, I don't know why you should need all this help just getting into a _shirt_." Merlin's cheerful, bothersome voice broke into his reverie, following his train of thought in a way that was almost uncanny.

He blinked.

"_It laces in the back_!" Arthur said indignantly. "How could I possibly do it myself?"

"That's what I mean," Merlin explained with light-hearted exasperation as he worked on the offending article of clothing, "Why should it lace in the back? That's completely impractical. What do the other knights do, the ones who don't have servants to dress them before ceremonies, I mean."

Arthur frowned, clearly never having given any thought to this whatsoever. "I don't know, I suppose they help each other."

"Right," said Merlin, nodding skeptically, "And what if one of them is going on duty alone? ..._or_... what if all the servants have been killed by invaders and you have to surrender the castle with your _shirt on backwards_?"

"_Mer_lin." Arthur snarled and grabbed his servant by the collar of his own shirt as he finished tying and brought him 'round to the front. "Don't you _think_ that if I'm _surrendering_ the castle I'd have more important things to worry about than the state of my _shirt_?" He shook Merlin once for emphasis.

Merlin put his hands up, "You're probably right..." he conceded as Arthur released him. He swept up the jacket that was to go over the shirt and proceeded to help his master on with it.

"Really Merlin, you've been tying that shirt up for _literally_ years now." His face scrunched up as he thought about it, "What's it done this time to get you so...upset?"

"Oh, its not the shirt's fault." He said somewhat sharply as he breezed over to the desk and his next task of the morning. "It's just that right now I'm also meant to be getting a fire going, fetching your breakfast, and finishing this speech for the leatherworkers guild, and to do that I'd have to be in more than one place at once, which is impossible, but if it weren't impossible, I still couldn't do it, b'cause it would probably be magic, _and then you'd have to kill me_."

Silence filled the room.

Merlin winced mentally. He hadn't meant that to come out as such a biting accusation.

But he didn't need to look at Arthur to see the hurt welling up in the young king's eyes.

Indeed Merlin had felt betrayed by Arthur's condemnation of Gaius. It was infuriating that the man would trust the uncle he'd only known for a brief time against the man who'd been more than an uncle to him for his entire life, never mind that Merlin already knew the former for a traitor. But then again, Arthur had handled the situation with infinitely more grace than his father would have. Uther had been decisive and more than quick to condemn- traits that gave his people to respect and fear his power but not to love or trust him as a leader. Arthur, on the other hand, made his decision about Gaius with great difficulty, his heart desperately at war with the sense of duty imposed on him by his uncle. As with all matters of his kingship, Arthur fervently wanted to do right by his people. He _cared_ with a passion, and that passion was at once what made him so much better a king than his father, and what made the job so hard on him. Merlin, more than anyone, was witness to the fact that their young king agonized over so many of his decisions, doubting himself more often than not yet still performing his duties to the very best of his ability and striving to be the strong leader that his kingdom needed. Insignificant though it might be, it was encouragement that Arthur needed from his friend right now. And now Merlin felt terrible for having taken a stab at Arthur over his stupid, lingering resentment.

"Arthur, I'm sorry" he started, "I shouldn't..."

"No," Arthur stopped him with a firm grip on his arm. "You're right." He closed his eyes momentarily, collecting himself. "I haven't even apologized to you properly yet. Once again, I should have listened to you. And if you hadn't been such a stubborn clot-pole..." Merlin looked about to object but Arthur gave him a look that brooked no interruption. "...and taken matters into your own hands, I would certainly have lost one of my oldest and dearest friends." He released his grip, walked around the desk and sat down. Then he looked up at his servant gravely. "I am sorry Merlin. And thank you."

Merlin stared for a moment.

Then he lent in as if to scrutinize his master, breaking Arthur's affect of seriousness as the kings face morphed into an amusing expression of horror. Merlin stopped a few inches from Arthur's face, craned back though the king was, and carefully asked- "Could you say that again?"

"_What_?" Arthur nearly yelled.

Merlin stood straight up again. "That's _two_," he held up two fingers for emphasis, "impossible things that just happened. And I just want to make sure I wasn't hearing things."

Arthur's royal scowl burned with a fire that rivaled Uther's.

"You apologized to me, _and_ thanked me- all in the same breath!"

Arthur's fist tightened around the seat cushion underneath him. He eased forward, still snarling, to pull it free for use as a weapon.

"Is the castle about to be bombarded by siege weapons?" Merlin went on, "Is a magical plague about to sweep through and kill us both? Is the world about to up and end entirely? Cause this is the..."

"Merlin." Arthur's voice was quiet and deadly.

"Yes sire?" Merlin snapped to attention, though he could not possibly have done so more mockingly.

Arthur stood and walked over to his servant.

"Shut. Up."

And he clobbered Merlin over the head with the pillow.

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><p>The battle was a short one, especially since Merlin's primary defensive strategy was to cover his head and cower, while Arthur managed to prove his skill with even a weapon as mundane as a pillow. But it ended in grins and laughter and welcome relief from the tension that they hadn't realized had grown between them.<p>

"So are we good?" Arthur asked with a half smile as he threw the cushion on the bed.

"Consider yourself forgiven." Merlin smirked as he went over to the bed, picked up the cushion and replaced it properly on the desk chair.

"Actually- I understand." Merlin went on, "The...circumstances put you in an impossible position. Honestly, I don't know what I would have done in your place."

Arthur grimaced vaguely as he put on a boot. He had a pretty good idea what Merlin would have done. The fool had gone and done it anyway, hadn't he?

"There is one thing, though." Merlin added as he went across the room to light the fire.

"What's that?" Arthur asked, not looking up from his other boot.

"Well, if Gaius had been practicing magic for all those years, don't you think I would have noticed something?" Merlin glanced behind him, struck the flint once and then lit the firewood with the power of his mind.

"Actually, I _had_ thought of that," Arthur replied, standing up and taking a few measured steps in the boots. "But then I realized- If anybody could spend _four years_ living in the same house with someone using magic and _never_ notice, it would be you, Merlin."

Merlin paused, glad to be facing away from Arthur as he fought the grin that was threatening to break into a guffaw. Finally he was able to get a few words out, "I've got to go get breakfast!" his voice cracked a bit, giving Arthur completely the wrong impression, so Merlin got up quickly and made for the door.

"Its all right, Merlin." Arthur called after him, guessing that he'd managed to offend his servant once again. "You just have a particularly kind heart, and, well, its difficult for _anyone_ to be suspicious of the ones they love."

Merlin paused at the door, where he failed to suppress a snort of laughter and tried to turn it into a cough. "Be right back!" he managed, and, still not risking a glance at Arthur, he hared off before he completely gave himself away.

"_MERLIN!_" Arthur shouted down the hall when he reached the door. But his servant was nowhere to be seen. He could, however, almost swear that he heard peals of hysterical laughter echoing down the opposite corridor...


End file.
